the acoustics of your voice
by callmesandy
Summary: After Olivia gets back from the other side, she and Peter investigate murders at a sex club.


title and opening quote from J.P. Dancing Bear's Acoustics for Priscilla Becker. I will never not rewrite marionette. Also, Peter is bisexual because in my headcanon he is bisexual forever and always. not mine, no profit garnered. So much sex, f/f, f/m, m/m, f/f/m, m/m/f.

* * *

 _you are expectantly pacing the deck with a patient ear: counting out:_ 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3. _. .: more sparrows arrive: upon the first breeze_

Olivia and Astrid are looking through the new batch of cases being referred to the Fringe division. Astrid makes a face and says, "You have to look at this, Olivia. They found 2 people, well, 2 people this week, 6 people in the past few months and their genitals have exploded."

"Why do I have to look at that?" Olivia takes the file from Astrid.

"I looked at the pictures, you have to look at the pictures," Astrid says. "I think we should look into this because Walter will have so much fun with the autopsies."

"Is that why we're taking cases now?" Olivia scans the files and she does think there's something here.

The next day Walter has 8 bodies in his lab. Astrid is assisting with the work because Peter took one look at an exploded penis and said, "Nope," very loudly. He's now analyzing tissue samples.

Peter looks up and over at Olivia. He says, "For the very first time in my life, I'm experiencing deja vu."

"You wouldn't, though," Astrid says. "I mean, Walter keeps saying deja vu is us matching up with our alternates. Which I don't understand how that works, Walter."

"It's one explanation for the phenomenon. And just because Peter doesn't have an alternate in the parallel universe we are linked to by the Bridge doesn't mean Peter doesn't have alternates. There is more than one of everything," Walter says.

Olivia touches the table. She says, "Oh, I feel something, too. Not deja vu, but I know how this goes. I think I know who did it."

Walter blinks and blinks. He says, "Do tell."

Olivia says, "They all went to a sex club. The explosion happens from a mix of chemicals in a hand stamp. Plus this glowy gatorade and vodka they hand out at the club. It's a bouncer. He's policing them."

Astrid says, "That is going to be hard to prove. You just know that?"

"Yeah," Peter says. "That sounds, right, though."

Walter says, "I don't understand." He walks up close to Olivia and shines a light in her eyes. "Is it your cortexiphan powers telling you this?"

"That makes no sense," Peter says. "She hasn't even used them since we came back from the other side."

Olivia reviews the events in her head. The grenade went off, someone tried to grab her. She was so afraid and angry, she lashed out with her mind. Then she and William Bell went back into the theatre.

No, she thinks. Someone did grab her. They took her and put her in the cell. And then she came home, back to her own side, she'd been replaced.

"I remember two different things," Olivia says.

"That's fascinating," Walter says. "I know what we can do."

Peter says, "He's about to say the tank."

"Maybe you need to get in there, too," Olivia says.

"It's not a couples date," Peter says.

"But you remember something, too. Why us? Why the two of us?"

"I just said I had deja vu, I didn't say I remembered two things," Peter says. His face is blank and his eyes are distant.

Walter says, "We should examine you both." He sounds awfully happy about that.

Three hours later, Olivia is getting in the tank.

Real is just a matter of perception. It ricochets through Olivia's brain as she lays in the hospital bed. This must be real. This is home, this exhaustion, this is Peter she sees, corporeal. She takes his hands and her nails dig into his fingers. Corporeal. He looks guilty and sad. She deduces why easily.

"You were sleeping with her," Olivia says.

"Olivia," he says, guiltily, pulling his hand back. She doesn't let go.

"Why wouldn't you? How were you supposed to know?"

Peter's hand is limp. He doesn't meet her eyes. He says, "I should have known. She was different."

"She wasn't that different. She had a job," Olivia says. "Can you, you should stop. I have too much to deal with and I can't deal with your guilt, too." He just nods.

She says, "Her father died when she was 14, not her mother. She was never experimented on, no cortexiphan, no stepfather, no birthday cards. Of course she was different. I have her memories, does that make me her? Is that a version of reality where I'm her and me?"

Peter says, "You have both sets of memories but one was implanted."

"I don't remember the cortexiphan experiments. My memories can be erased. You don't remember being kidnapped, the time when you must have questioned how you were in a whole new world. So, do we still rely on memories that can be overwritten or erased?"

"I don't know," Peter says. "I know you're this Olivia, that seems real."

"You know," Olivia says. "I'm still medicated, I can think more clearly tomorrow." She lets go of Peter's hand.

"I think I sounded like a loon last night," Olivia says. She's already dressed and ready to go. Broyles has sat down in the chair Peter was in. He's probably not her ride home.

"It's a lot to take in," Broyles says.

"No one realized I'd been replaced for 8 weeks and Peter was so fooled he was dating my replacement," Olivia says. She's proud of her matter of fact manner.

Broyles frowns slightly and exhales. He says, "I can't imagine -"

"I can't imagine, either," Olivia says. "I was her for six weeks, I thought I was her, I remembered what she remembered. It must have been amazing to her to be here. The backwards technology, sure, but everything is so safe. For now."

Broyles gives a slight nod. He says, "We'll need to go over everything you know, that's valuable information."

Olivia looks at her fingers, the tiniest of fidgets. It's a ghost of the exercises she did preparing for the Olympics. Olivia never did that.

"I didn't even believe it at first when Walter went on and on about parallel universes. Even when I saw them, went to one for a few moments and then again to see Bell. I never thought about it too much. Then there was that building. But it's real," Olivia says.

Peter comes in and says, "Real is a matter of perception, right?" He sounds so tentative.

"I was telling Broyles I must have sounded like a lunatic last night," she says, standing up.

"More like Walter when he makes his own drugs and uses that strain of pot he's been growing under the stairs," Peter says.

"I'm not asking which stairs," Broyles says. "Olivia, I'll call you later with the schedule for your debriefs and evaluations." He grips her shoulder before leaving.

"I think he almost hugged you," Peter says.

"I would have worried I had cancer and no one told me," Olivia says. "You don't have to drive me home."

Peter presses his lips together and looks away from her. He drives in silence for 10 minutes. Then he says, "I don't want to burden you but I did want to apologize again - I should have known."

"I'm sorry I told you to shut up," Olivia says. She's fidgeting again. "You don't need to apologize to me. How much do you blame Sonia for not recognizing Charlie had been replaced?"

"I don't, of course, but Sonia didn't even know about shapeshifters and alternates and I did," Peter says. "She was different and I convinced myself it was because of me."

Olivia closes her eyes. "If you want to suffer, I won't help you."

Peter makes a noise, an exhale of exasperation or anger. She says, "You were particularly vulnerable, of course, you've been convinced before that the people around you were the ones you already knew."

"Which is why I should have known," Peter says. "Sorry."

"If you're wondering, I blame Walternate and Walter, frankly. I can't even hate her. I know she was doing her best, she'd been lied to, she's convinced she's at war," Olivia says.

"Wouldn't two months here have shown her there's no war except in Walternate's mind? Since you were her," Peter says. She can't read his tone at all.

"Sometimes it's hard to question yourself if it means realizing you did something wrong," Olivia says. "Peter." she reaches for his hand, holds tight so her nails dig in his skin. "Peter," she says.

"Okay," he says. "Look, I was here a lot. My stuff is here. I'll get it together," Peter says.

Olivia squeezes his hand tighter. This is real. This is her universe. She wasn't displaced. She was replaced and no one noticed, how real does that make her? She says, "Okay."

Her apartment feels wrong. She sits on the couch while Peter walks around behind her. She tries to probe the feeling. Is it wrong because she changed it? Is it wrong because she expects her apartment on the other side? Is it wrong because Olivia is wrong?

She sighs and stands up. She scans the bookshelves. She only sees one or two new books. They're both popular history. Her pictures of Ella have been obscured. Not moved or put away, too suspicious, but other things are in front of them. Olivia moves all of it aside and runs her finger down the dusty edge of the frame.

Olivia, the other Olivia added some knickknacks. Olivia, herself, she doesn't get all of them. She wonders which ones Peter bought. Wouldn't buying knickknacks and Olivia accepting them, even liking them, be a sign that it wasn't Olivia?

"Peter," Olivia says. "Did you buy these snowglobes?"

"No," Peter says. He comes over and stands behind her. She can smell him. He says, "She must have. I didn't really notice."

"I thought maybe you bought them," Olivia says, nearly smiling. "Good to know you know I don't like snow globes."

"I didn't," Peter says. "I do now. Do you want me to leave?"

"No, please." She sounds desperate. She just knows if she's alone she'll be more confused, she'll think herself to oblivion, wake up somewhere between real and unreal.

"Okay," Peter says. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," she says. "Coffee, I want coffee, too."

Peter is quiet for a moment. He says, "I bought an espresso machine, it's here. I don't think you'll be surprised to know I was once a barista."

"Not surprised," Olivia says, smiling. "It wasn't Starbucks, though, I bet."

"Oh, no," Peter says. He's already in the kitchen and she can see the new machine. She hasn't been in her kitchen yet. She wonders what else she has now she didn't have before. She's exhausted by her own brain.

"Where did you work?"

Peter says, "Small coffee shop that sold more than coffee from the back room in Destin, Florida."

"Did you spend a lot of time in Florida?" She wants him to keep talking.

"Just a few months," Peter says. "Destin, then the Keys. Doing very different jobs. I think that was, uh, 1999."

"So how did you party?"

"That joke is beneath you, Dunham," Peter says. "Actually I spent New Year's 1999 in Buenos Aires. That's another long story."

"I like long stories," Olivia says. "Right now I do."

"Let's see," Peter says. He stops talking while he grinds beans. She doesn't recognize the bag he got them from. She hopes Walter had nothing to do with them, but Peter would never change so much he'd do that to her. Then the grind is done. He says, "I'd been arrested three times at that point - no prison time or even probation. I was only guilty in two of those cases. I thought I was going to get arrested in the Keys so it seemed like time to travel. I'd made a new friend who was from Buenos Aires, and he said we had to do New Year's there. I obtained a new passport that didn't have the name Peter Bishop on it."

"So you and your friend went to his hometown for New Year's Eve. That's not a long story," Olivia says.

Peter's finished making her an espresso and hands it to her. He says, "Sometimes I say it's a long story so I can avoid telling it."

"More secrets revealed," Olivia says, sipping her espresso.

"I told her," Peter says, looking down and away. "I told her that story once and she asked if my friend was really my boyfriend. I told you I should have known."

"Because I knew that about you, I've known since that night we were drinking after I first met David Robert Jones," Olivia says. This is her memory so she perceives it as real. "Your very high ex-boyfriend. Hard to forget."

"He didn't do drugs during the 3 weeks we were having sex," Peter says. "Drugs are a turn off." His voice is carefully neutral.

"I remember you saying that, too," Olivia says and laughs. She says, "What did she say when you asked her why she didn't remember?"

"I didn't ask her. I said of course he was, because I thought she remembered, I thought I was misreading her question. I thought you were joking with me. But I guess it was genuine curiosity," Peter says. He sits on her couch, drinking his own latte.

Olivia has nothing to add to this. Except, she says, "Prince wasn't a musician over there. Or he was, but not one that had hits and songs like 1999."

"She knew who Prince was," Peter says. "I guess it was part of her education."

"I just know the hits," Olivia says. "I've never really been into popular music. You know, at boarding school, or college, I was always concentrating on something else. Give me horror movies or Star Wars, Star Trek. I read tons of true crime books."

"You never went dancing? Hit the clubs?"

Olivia smiles again. She's surprised she can be so calm. She anticipated a bigger freak out being back in her apartment, seeing all the signs of the other her. She says, "I was ROTC and cum laude, I actually never went dancing. I went with Rachel once, while I was in the Marines and she was in her first year of college."

"Let me guess," Peter says. "She got drunk and you were the big sister taking care of her so you didn't do much dancing."

"I held her hair while she threw up in a very dirty bathroom," Olivia says. "I went a few times when I was her, with Charlie and Lincoln. Frank, too."

"Frank was her boyfriend?" Peter's jaw is so tight, her teeth ache in sympathy.

"Yes," Olivia says. "I slept with him. I was his girlfriend." She shrugs. "How am I supposed to feel about that?"

"I have no idea," Peter says.

Olivia consciously relaxes her shoulders and neck. She says, "Okay. I need to organize, before I do the debrief. Let me tell you about the other side."

"Home sweet home," Peter says.

He listens for the next two hours, asks good questions to help her remember details. She sticks to the facts, the things she learned or knew from her memories, how the Fringe Division worked. Using amber, the decay of the universe.

She remembers, once, being very very drunk and kissing Charlie against a brick wall, thumping music from inside making the street seem to vibrate. He had a tight grip on her ass. Did that happen while she was over there or did she remember it? It was definitely not her Charlie, the one kissing had that scar.

Peter says, "Do you want to keep talking about this?"

"Tell me about your cases," Olivia says.

After a half hour, Olivia is suddenly exhausted. She can't imagine getting up or moving. She never wants to move or leave her apartment. She closes her eyes and leans back. Then she forces herself to open her eyes and stand up. "I need to sleep," she says. "Can you stay? I can't take waking up alone."

He looks at her like he loves her. He does, she knows. He says, "Of course." She loves him, too, mostly.

Olivia wakes up and tells Peter to leave. Every time she wakes up, she feels more grounded. She feels she knows what's real. At least for a few minutes.

She goes to a hair salon two blocks away from her apartment. She sits in the chair and says, "Something different. Not this color, not these bangs."

The stylist is a sweet looking woman with dark brown eyes and five different colors in her hair. It works on her. Olivia almost asks for that. The stylist says, "There isn't much I can do about the bangs. I can brush them to the side, shorten your hair, do a layered thing so they grow out more easily."

"How short? I don't want a Rosemary's Baby cut."

"You mean a pixie cut?" Not everyone gets all their references from horror movies. The stylist says, "You have the face for it, you could shave your head and you'd still be gorgeous. But how about shoulder length?"

Olivia nods. She nods again at the hair color choice. She goes to her first debrief/psychological evaluation with her new hair. Broyles does a double take in the hallway. He probably thinks there's more to it than there is. Olivia isn't repressing anything. She thinks.

She comes back from her appointment and starts ripping through her closet. Some of her clothes are there, pushed towards the back. Even the new ones are the same colors she wore everyday, just tighter, more casual.

Olivia doesn't need cargo pants or skinny jeans. She has a perfectly good uniform already. She puts together a box to donate and heads down to Goodwill. She goes shopping by herself, (she always goes shopping by herself, this is a constant Olivia trait) and picks up new shirts and slacks. Some of the shirts are bright jewel tones. They look good with her new hair, she thinks.

She calls Peter for dinner. He says, "You're sure?"

"Of course I am," she says, annoyance bleeding through in her voice.

When he arrives, she apologizes. "I'm being harsh with you," she says. "I know it's easier to tell yourself you should have known than acknowledge how many times you've been manipulated by people wearing the face of someone you loved."

"That's not harsh," he says, with something like a smile. "Nice hair."

"Thank you," she says. "Let's watch new movies, things I haven't seen. You know what I like."

He does know what she likes. She leans against him, lets him put his arm around her like he's Frank. Like it's Peter, the man she does love. She talks over the movies, about what she saw over there. She asks him to tell her about cases, what's happening with Astrid. She even asks about Gene. How ridiculous Gene had to have been to the other Olivia, a cow just readily available in the lab, not on a farm, not carefully conserved and used. She needs to find that normal.

"Please stop feeling bad," she says. "I would have done the exact same thing if somehow our positions were reversed. Just because you knew it might possibly be happening doesn't mean you'd be looking for clues every second.

"So I'm just another victim," he says. She tries to hear his tone for sarcasm or pain. Or both.

"Yes," she says. "A whole portion of your life you were and are a victim, you were kidnapped, you were lied to, you were lied to again, you were lied to all over again. I was experimented on and had my memories taken away, I had new ones implanted and broke free of those and nearly died getting back here. So here we are. I don't count you as someone who hurt me, except that you ran away from Walter and that was running away from me."

"I should have been running more, for most of my life," Peter says.

"That's logical," Olivia says, nearly smiling. He's handsome. She had sex with Frank, once with Charlie, twice with Lincoln. It feels like when she sleeps with Peter, Olivia will have somehow caught up with her other. She looks at his face, her hand on his cheek, the back of his neck. He has such a lovely face. She's so used to him, only now she feels she appreciates him.

Peter says, "Do I have something on my face?"

She says, "No, just, no, it's nothing."

She kisses him for the second time. He's tentative and guilty, like guilty is something she can taste on him. She tries again, hands in his hair, and he feels less penitent. "We were interrupted," Olivia says.

"That's a comfortable perception," Peter says. He kisses her back, his hands on her waist.

She slowly undresses him, guides his hands to strip her. He's nice to look at naked, she likes him so much, the feel of his skin against hers. He lets her take the lead and she can see his occasional winces. Once, she stops and says, "Are you okay?"

"I am, I am," he says. "I swear."

"We're fucking, not having an exorcism," she says with a smile.

"If you spin your head all the way around, I will be a little freaked out," Peter says.

"I do know some tricks," she says. She's still on top, her legs tight on his hips and waist. It feel good and real when he's inside her. It feels exactly right, she feels like herself looking at his face and his eyes.

When they're done and cleaned up and sitting naked on her bed, she says, "Do you want to tell me all the ways this was different?"

"No," he says, with a small smile. "It's okay."

She shakes her head. "It's okay if it's not. I don't mean to shut you down," she says.

"Shut down my pain," Peter says, clearly sarcastic.

"Don't make too much fun," Olivia says. "We're both, I don't know."

"We're both very articulate," Peter says. He leans over and kisses her cheek.

He sleeps in her bed, carefully picking a side she assumes isn't the one he slept on with her. Olivia closes her eyes and can't quite sleep. She pictures the other side, her bed with Frank, that night Lincoln slept over. The mattress was different, she thinks. The mattress held her weight differently. If she opens her eyes and closes them again, she recreate that feel of the bed she was used to, she had been used to, the smell of Frank next to her, the way he was in bed. That's the most familiar sense memory to her. She remember it and it feels exactly real. She wonders if she opens her eyes, will she have switched places again, will she be back in her bed with Frank, will she be Liv again? She is Liv now, Peter calls her Liv sometimes. She opens her eyes and all she sees is her own room and Peter, already asleep.

She falls asleep before Peter wakes her up. He tenses and jerks. She says, "Peter?"

"Liv?"

"Yeah," she says. She touches his hair and rubs his back. She does this when Ella's upset.

"I haven't had a nightmare in months," Peter says, his back to her.

"You've had it rough," Olivia says. "Did you talk to Walter about everything?"

"No, of course not. We talked for a brief moment, then I came over here and was distracted," Peter says.

"Honestly, I might have done the same," she says. "You haven't talked to him since?"

"I talk to him constantly. Not about this," Peter says. He rolls onto his back. She looks at his profile.

"Maybe tomorrow," she says.

"Maybe," Peter says. He puts his arm around her and pulls her on his chest. She decides she likes it. Like the other Olivia.

Peter says, "Did I tell you I like your hair? I do."

"Thank you," Olivia says.

The next morning she goes to the firing range. She wonders if her marksman skills have improved. Broyles comes out to see her after she's been there an hour. "You've improved," Broyles said.

"I remember being a marksman," Olivia says. "It's like she's me, right?"

"She's not you, Olivia," Broyles says.

"As far as you noticed," Olivia says, smiling like she isn't mad. She doesn't think she's mad.

"In retrospect," Broyles says. "She wasn't as good an investigator as you. Some of it may be that she was covering up her real objectives. But even on unrelated cases, she wasn't as dogged."

"She had a happy childhood," Olivia says. "She picked up a gun when she was 9, she started training as a marksman."

Broyles nods. "You have more debriefs to do."

She does them. She speaks to the poor department psychiatrist who is way out of her league with Olivia.

She goes home and Peter knocks on her door two minutes later. "Were you watching me?"

"I wasn't," he says. "I was really desperate to get away from Walter."

"I bet you were," she says. He goes automatically to the espresso machine.

He says, "Did I make your coffee right?"

"Not really, but I don't usually get espressos and that's what you made."

She loves being a great shot. She just smiles and pretends she remembers her father clearly, focuses on the target and she can hit anything. Broyles can show her reports that she wasn't bad before, she has made impressive shots just while working for Fringe.

Secretly, she thinks the cortexiphan did that. Reality and perceptions and she subconsciously shaped the path of the bullet like turning out a light bulb by staring at it.

Olivia is deemed fit for work. Her first case is a man who made a monster of a girl he claimed to love, the monster has rolling eyes that focus on nothing. She says to Peter, "You're the kind of person who always corrects people when they say Frankenstein because they mean Frankenstein's monster."

"No," Peter says, looking at her. "You are, aren't you?"

"I am," Olivia says.

She wakes up with Peter frequently enough she finally says, "You have to talk to Walter. You can't keep putting it off. Do you think if you wait long enough you'll come around to his point of view? Or just get good enough at pretending?"

"Definitely the latter," Peter says, rolling away from her, pulling the blanket over his head because he's being depressingly literal.

"It doesn't work," she says. "You can't sleep again because your mind realizes you've been screwed."

"Taken under advisement," Peter says, his voice muffled by layers.

They have a twisted case of Observer interference. "I hate them," Olivia says.

"They should be more direct," Peter says.

"Maybe they're more direct in the future," Olivia says. "Which also sounds awful."

Peter is in perfect health from the beginning to the end of the case. He holds a bottle of milk in his hand from the refrigerator. "Do you think Walter did something to this?"

"I'm absolutely sure," she says. Peter sets it aside.

When Walter gets back to the lab, he is brimming with certain meaning and theories. All about the Observers. Peter says, "Walter, we should talk."

Olivia rubs his back and kisses the top of head and then leaves.

Just in time, they get back to cases that are horrifying and without deeper meaning. "This man and this woman both died from orgasm," Walter says. They have two new corpses, delivered by the Boston PD. "But not the traditional death caused by orgasm, which is heart attack. These two died from the spasms and pleasure that were so overwhelming, apparently, their genital areas exploded." Walter pulls back the sheet over where the man's penis should be and Peter actually looks sick to his stomach.

"Do not do that to the woman, Walter," Astrid says.

"It is equally repulsive, yes," Walter says.

Walter starts in on tissue analysis and blood work. Peter helps. He has a pained expression all day. Olivia thinks it's funny, but then again she didn't see what an exploded vagina looks like.

Olivia sits with Astrid in the back room, drinking coffee and looking at spending records for their dead friends. Olivia says, "You didn't realize it wasn't me, either. I'm not mad."

"I'm mad," Astrid says. "I'm mad that she was sent here to fool us and pick at our brains and manipulate us. I'm pretty mad she did it to my friend. But I do feel guilty I didn't put it all together. She wasn't like you in a lot of ways. She wasn't as good as you."

"That's what Broyles said," Olivia says. "I said it was because she had a happy childhood."

"Charlie had a happy childhood, he was still a great investigator," Astrid says. "She knew she was supposed to be, she'd stay late and flip through papers. But she'd find things by accident. Or she wouldn't even stay, she'd just disappear off with Peter."

"I should do that," Olivia says. "I like being off with Peter. Did you know he enjoys backgammon?"

"Backgammon," Astrid says, smiling. "Do you like backgammon?"

"I used to play it with one of the officers when I was in the Marines," Olivia says. Olivia's memories of the Marines, not John Scott's. That was her first time struggling to define real. She feels sorry for her brain, from Walter's tank to Walternate's experiments to Walter's injections when she was only three. Maybe everything's malleable because her brain is swiss cheese with the holes expanding taking her logic and rationality. She's seized with fear and sits up as straight as possible, clutching her coffee cup.

"Are you okay?" Astrid lightly taps her shoulder.

"I'm fine," Olivia says.

Olivia goes home and Peter is already asleep on her bed. She sits next to him and squeezes his butt. His eyes flutter open and he says, "Sorry."

She realizes he has a key. The other she gave him a key. She almost snarls, she wants to go through his pockets and his jacket and take her key back. It should be her choice. She imagines Peter's reaction. None of it makes her happy. He's already falling back asleep. "Peter," she says.

"Are things that bad with Walter?" She's needling him. She wants him gone.

He rolls over onto his back. He says, "Sort of. I'm sorry, I'll go."

"You don't have to," she says. She shrugs.

"You want me to," Peter says. "I'm not an idiot."

She wants to say something about how he may not be an idiot but he can be lead around by his dick. She gets up and goes into the kitchen. She wants to think.

"Are you mad?"

"I'm thinking," she says. She uses the espresso machine. She likes the grinding of the beans, the noise is comforting. She's angry at the other Olivia. The other one trampled on Olivia's life, all parts of her life. While Olivia was brainwashed and nearly killed. The grinding is done and she starts making the espresso. It's fucked up, she thinks. It's fucked up that Peter can be violated by one woman, blame himself for it, and then happily settle into almost the same relationship with a doppelganger of the woman who violated him. She makes a latte for Peter. She's fucked up, too. She wants to start over. She wants her reality to be different.

She turns around and Peter is standing by the door, jacket on. He's already put her key on the coffee table. She says, "I'm not mad now. Stay and drink your latte."

He shakes his head. "We probably need time apart. The way normal people date after less than a month."

"Because we're so normal," she says. She sits down and keeps holding his damn latte up to him.

He rolls his eyes a little and takes the latte from her. He stays standing. "We're being abnormal in the wrong way."

"I don't get to decide what's wrong for me?"

"I get to decide what's wrong with me," Peter says.

"I want you to stay. And you can keep the key," Olivia says. "Believe me."

"You're so well adjusted," Peter says. He does sit down. "Are you really so well adjusted?"

"Is this well adjusted? I'm mad at her," Olivia says. "Sometimes I have to pause and think. But I'm mad at her. The people here, you, she violated all your trust and manipulated you. Just because we all know, we all knew, that doubles existed. And shapeshifters. But why suspect her? She'd have an excuse for everything. When I, I started to remember, I hid it from everyone. But I still -" she drinks her espresso. She still had sex with Lincoln before she left. It made her feel like she was Olivia, the reality she preferred where she wasn't going to be killed. "I want you to stay. We belong together. I still think that."

Peter is covering his face, rubbing his hands over his face. He looks at her and she thinks his eyes are wet. He says, "Okay."

"I'm not sleepy at all now," Olivia says.

Peter smiles. "Me neither."

In the morning, Olivia runs. She likes running. It's separate from everything else. From her. All of her memories and experiences running in Boston are completely her own.

Astrid greets her at the lab. Peter left while she was running so he's already at the lab. Peter, Astrid and Walter. And they all smile at her. Astrid says, "We're making some progress on the people who died from sex."

"From orgasm," Walter says. The way he says orgasm makes Olivia never want to have sex again. Or masturbate. "It appears that the victims ingested or were given a collection of chemicals combined that overwhelmed their systems and dilated their orifices -"

"That's all you need," Peter says. "Trust me, we got the technical breakdown."

"The bodies were found in a foreclosed house," Olivia says. "It looks like they were just dumped there. No evidence they died there. I thought Astrid and I could interview the people who knew them."

"Time away from another reenactment of penile explosion?" Astrid smiles. "I think that's a great idea, Olivia."

"Why can't I go?" Peter sounds very petulant.

"I'd rather go with Astrid," Olivia says.

There's no sign the dead man or woman knew each other. Olivia arbitrarily chooses to start with the man's wife. The notification is already done so they're spared that. The wife looks grief stricken, the kind of grief that keeps punching her in the stomach hour after hour with no let-up.

Astrid says, "How about I make tea?" and disappears to the kitchen. Olivia knows she's also covertly searching the house, because Astrid is good at her job, no matter how rarely she gets to do it.

Olivia asks whether the wife knows about "the manner of the death."

"They left him to die in an abandoned house," the wife says, sniffling.

"It looks like there was kind of negative reaction that Neal had to something he ate, or drank," Olivia says.

The wife squints. She looks off, over Olivia's shoulder. She says, "We drank the same things that night. I feel fine, mostly." She cries a little at that.

Astrid comes in with the tea. "You were with him for part of the night, at a party?"

The wife blinks, her eyes red and unfocused. Astrid says, "We won't judge. Tell us about the party."

"It's, honestly, it's a, don't judge, it's not sleazy, it's a sex club," the wife says.

Astrid says, "Neither of us are judging. There's nothing wrong with exploring who you are with other people who are doing the same thing. I bet there's a bunch of rules to make sure everyone is safe."

"Yes," the wife says, emphatically. "You have to show a clean bill of health and there's no drinking or drugs allowed. Neal and I went that night. You have to go as a couple. They're pretty progressive for clubs like this, though, you can be a same sex couple, sometimes these places can be really, well, straight. Not that I, we went to a lot of places. It's just something we started doing last year. But this one is the only one we've been going to for the past few months. It's nice. I'm sure nothing happened to him there."

Olivia says, "Why are you sure?"

The wife sighs. "I don't know. Some people do drink, there are hosts of rooms who offer these kind of gatorade and vodka drinks. I know it sounds gross, but I don't know how else to describe them. They're bright neon colors, and there's an alcohol kick. But I've never seen anyone who was so intoxicated they couldn't say no."

Olivia can hear the note of defensiveness. She says, "Did someone say they were too intoxicated?"

The wife shifts in her seat. Astrid says, "Did someone accuse your husband of something?"

"Two weeks ago," the wife says. "But it was all settled. The woman had come to the club already high on something, everyone could see. Neil thought she was okay with it and then she comes back with this I don't remember line. Everything was settled and okay the last time we went. She wasn't even there."

Astrid nods. "Of course. Do you remember her name?"

It was the female victim.

After all their interviews, Astrid, Olivia, and Peter gather at Broyles's office. "It's a sex club," Broyles says.

"Yup," Astrid says. "Once we had the name I did some additional research in a couple of places."

"A lot of positive and vague Yelp reviews," Olivia says.

Peter smiles, genuinely. Astrid says, "Basically it's held in three different places. They have pretty strict rules, some of which are violated by the people running it. They say no alcohol, but it's clear if you seem cool, you can get some glowing drink in one of the back rooms. They say they won't let you in if you're high or drunk, but they don't check very closely."

Broyles says, "How do they make their money?"

"Entrance fees, subscriptions. If you subscribe it's a monthly charge that goes on until you stop it, and it's a slight discount on the entrance fees if you go to more than two parties a month," Olivia says. "You also have to pay before your first party to submit your medical records. And pay again every 3 months to show you've had the same tests and are still disease free."

"I think there's a pretty nominal fee if you want to use protection and forgot yours at home, you know, condoms, dental dams. I also got the impression," Astrid says. "Well, if you want to use certain rooms and toys, they charge for that."

"Sybians aren't cheap," Peter says. Broyles glares at him.

"Have we identified any employees we could speak to?"

"Sorry, sir, not yet," Astrid says.

Broyles stares at the three of them. Then he says, "At some point we are probably going to have send someone undercover."

"I'm fine with it," Olivia says. "And Peter if he wanted to."

"Should I admit if I want to?" Peter is nearly smirking. "Sure, I'll do it. Sex club infiltration for the FBI."

"It may not be needed," Broyles says. "But given the preparation we need to do establishing a cover and sending over medical records, I think we should start on that now."

Walter, predictably, pouts when he hears he can't go. "I'm much more familiar with wild and crazy sexual shenanigans than any of you."

Astrid says, "You sound very sure of that, Walter."

"Let's hear more about this female victim, you interviewed her boyfriend or girlfriend or husband or wife," Walter says.

"Her partner," Astrid says, "they are non-binary. Not a woman, not a man. They said that their partner was indeed high on the night in question. They both were, before they went to the club. So the club argued that she had already broken the rules. They, the partner, said that they believed their partner. But they, the partner, was high, too. Not on weed. They swear that they saw people with glowing eyes and it wasn't the first time."

Walter nods, he easily accepts the idea of someone not being a woman or a man. Olivia wonders how the other her dealt with all of this, how backward this universe had to seem in some ways. It makes her feel small. Then angry. She shakes her head and goes back to paying attention to Astrid's excellent report.

"Glowing blue eyes?" Walter perks up.

"Not like that," Olivia says. "No super syphilis here. Glowing green eyes or brown eyes. I wonder if it's just an element of the lighting."

Peter says, "That only affects some people? I think there's something going on here."

"Clearly," Walter says. "Must I remind you of the exploded genitals?"

"Never ever, please," Peter says. "We need to find other club members and people who work there."

"And you two can't talk to them, because then they might recognize you," Astrid says, smiling.

"You are so excited about leaving this lab," Peter says, also smiling. "Not that I don't understand."

"I don't understand," Walter says. "Astral likes it here, don't you?"

"I do, Walter, but sometimes a break to do something else is nice, too," Astrid says.

Walter nods. Then he goes back to looking at results of the various tests he's been running on the bodies.

Peter goes home with her. She asks him to. But when he's in the apartment she doesn't want him to be. Until she does want him to be there because he walks around with his jeans off, she loves his butt. She drinks a glass of wine.

Peter says, "So are we having sex or are you going to shoot me?"

She smiles. "See, you do know me." She pushes her hair back from her face. Her bangs still haven't grown out. It feels like they never will. She says, "I'm always the experiment. I was Walter and Bell's experiment, then Walter's again, and then they brainwashed me and I hate all of it. I don't know how I'm alive and able to think with everyone who's fucked with my brain and my body." She's crying, she knows she is. She says, "Maybe we're together because you're the only one I know who has close to the same amount of trauma."

Peter says nothing. He moves to sit next to her. He says, "Maybe you like me because I'm tall. I've heard that one before."

She closes her eyes and leans back into his arm. "So I shouldn't be angry?'

"You should be furious," Peter says. She feels the tension in his arm. "You should be absolutely furious, you told me you were angry and not scared back in Jacksonville. But it's all so focused. You take care of everyone, I'd just set them all on fire."

"I could do that," Olivia says.

"Start with your stepfather," Peter says.

"We should have sex," Olivia says.

It's really good sex. She has a growing affection for his penis, the stretch in her body bringing him in, his big hands all over her. She has mixed feelings about the damn stubble.

She gets into bed after, ready to sleep, she says, "We're going to have to do that in public, soon, I bet."

"Public implies something more than a sex club. To me," Peter says. He sounds like he's already asleep.

"In front of other people," Olivia says. "I've never done that."

"Me neither," Peter says. "But I worked for a place that made porn. Filmed it."

"Never participated?"

"Never, I didn't want my face on film," Peter says. "I had a few friends with benefits in the crew and the actors."

"You worked on porn," Olivia says. "Was it good porn?"

Peter shrugs. She is looking up at him in the flashes of his face she can see in the dark. Peter says, "It was porn. Gangbangs, fake lesbians, whatever was hot at the time. Though gangbangs are always hot, I guess."

"Were they hot?"

"Less so when you're holding the sound boom. Also it takes hours to film that stuff. A 30 minute film is like, 5 hours of work," Peter says. "We should check to see if they film things at the sex club."

"Tomorrow," Olivia says.

In the morning, she goes to the gun range. She shoots and shoots. She's so good. She doesn't picture anyone on the sights, she just feels her anger flowing through her. She talks to the man at the gun range and tries out a sniper rifle. She goes to a different part of the range and lines up her sight. It feels natural, unnaturally natural. What did the other her learn? Did she go home with a photographic memory?

She doesn't miss a shot. She tries harder shots. She still doesn't miss. Maybe she should try out for the Olympics.

She goes to the lab and finds Peter and Walter bickering. Walter is saying something about how Peter is never home. Peter is asking if Walter is really upset that Peter spends the night with Olivia?

Olivia says, "We can go to your place."

"No, nope," Peter says. "Don't wanna."

"Because of me?"

"Of course because of you," Peter says to Walter.

"I am an excellent roommate," Walter says.

"By what standards?" Peter glares.

Olivia says, "How is the analysis coming?"

"I think, it is becoming clear that it was a mix, three specific poisons interacting. Each one on its own wasn't that poisonous so poison is an imprecise word. But you get my drift," Walter says. "I wonder if this overreaction in these two is some kind of allergy that wasn't expected." Walter goes back to the bodies.

Broyles comes to Olivia and Peter to see what they can do with the other Olivia's laptop. "She created the password here," Olivia says. "So you probably have a better idea."

"I don't know," Peter says.

"I'm not upset if you know," Olivia says. "I've tried the things I could think of, Frank, Frank's birthday, things related to her dad or her mom."

"Isn't a little nice to remember your dad?"

"He's not my dad," Olivia says. "It's nice, but it's not. It feels ... unfair to trade my bad memories for her good ones."

"You have Ella and Rachel," Peter says.

Olivia forces a smile. "That's one trade off. Look, did you two do anything, hang out? Maybe she really liked the espresso. You bought a whole machine."

Peter sighs. He starts typing and the third one opens the file. "She liked U2."

"I'm pretty neutral on them. I like, uh, Sunday Bloody Sunday."

"Because it mentions blood?" Peter smiles.

"Even I know that's not what it's about," Olivia says. "My mom loved Bruce Springsteen. I asked her once, when I was a kid, if Bruce Springsteen gave all the other rock stars their paychecks since he was the Boss."

Peter genuinely laughs. "Do you like Bruce Springsteen?"

"My mother loved Tunnel of Love, she had every song memorized," Olivia says. It was the year Olivia was 9, it's a soundtrack to the worst year of her life.

"I bet you don't love it," Peter says. He remembers when the record came out, she supposes.

They start to look through the files but even un-encrypted, it's a mess. There are long lists of names and schematics that make no sense. Olivia finds the section with the other Olivia's notes. She says, "I'll read this, you look at the rest."

"Why do you think I shouldn't read it?"

She thinks, because you'll wrap yourself up in guilt and shame and never admit you were violated or duped. She says nothing and just transfers that part of the file to her computer. It's not easy reading. She grinds her teeth at how alike they are, they think the same, they are the same. How is she different? Which she is Olivia? Is the real Olivia an actual thing? She looks over at Peter who is hitting keys and writing things down. "What have you found?"

"Nothing maybe," Peter says. "I think there's five shapeshifters listed in here. I'm going to send Broyles this list to check. I could be wrong, but I don't think so."

"Why?"

"I found Newton and I looked at where he was in the page, thinking - Astrid likes to talk about cryptography. I know she did when, when you were gone. So she would have heard it. Maybe she used that. Maybe she already had the idea. But if I go by Olive - 5 lists, the name listed at the numerical letter position, it includes Newton."

"It could be a lot of codes," Olivia says. But that is how she would do it.

"What did you get from your reading?"

She ignores the edge in his voice. He's probably already blaming himself for something. She says, "She really did like you. It wasn't just a job."

"Good to know," Peter says and turns away from her.

"It doesn't change what she did to you," Olivia says. "She found things she liked about me, too, but it doesn't change that she casually abetted my kidnapping and killed people while pretending to be me, and fooling my friends and you."

"Got it," Peter says.

An hour later, he kisses her on the cheek and heads out, saying something ridiculous about getting back to Walter.

Olivia stews. She isn't made for that. She wants to take action. Do something. At 1 am she calls Peter to see if he's up. He answers promptly but sounds groggy. "Is there a case?"

"No," Olivia says. "I don't like how we left things."

"How did we leave them?"

"Don't be an ass," Olivia says. "Are you mad I didn't let you read her journal?"

"Why do you think I'm mad?"

"Because I'm not an idiot," Olivia says. "Peter, we can't do this."

Peter is silent and then he says, "What's so bad about me reading it?"

"She gets to screw with your head one more time. Your father gets to make you suffer one more time. He sent her over here, he had to know how you felt about me. He always planned to have her get close to you and then pull her out. She did her job, even if she did start to like it. But you, you look at it like you're to blame. You let this happen to you. But people did it to you. I don't want to contribute to your misplaced self-loathing."

"If I hate myself for another reason, is that okay?"

She wants to push back. She wants to tell him to stop joking. But she knows Peter, too. He's not disagreeing with her. "You should hate yourself for how much you spent on that espresso machine. You don't have to get top of the line, you know," she says.

"Only the best for Olivia Dunham," Peter says. She imagines his expression, the flicker in his eyes and the momentary set of his jaw.

"Now I'm sleepy," she says.

"We're all talked out," Peter says.

"At least for now," Olivia says. She says goodbye, hears him say it, puts her phone on the pillow next to her where Peter would be.

They go to visit the assembled machine. The machine reacts to Peter and he reacts to it. Walter fusses over tests and Olivia tries to distract Peter. "You could tell me stories about your porn days," she says.

"You know I was just the boom operator and general handyman," Peter says. "Astrid's interviews seem to confirm there's no taping at the sex club, so you don't need to know about the experience."

"Maybe I just want to. What if the machine puts me out of the Fringe business?" She holds his hand and remembers when she scratched at him to know he was real. She feels more sure about that now.

"It won't put you out of the FBI business," Peter says. "You sounded like her for a minute there." His hand is limp and clammy in hers.

"I always sound like her, our vocal cords are identical," Olivia says. "Maybe hers are more damaged from pollution."

"But only slightly," he says, with a forced small smile.

"Are you worried I'm becoming her?"

"No," Peter says. "I'm worried I can't tell you apart."

Olivia grimaces. She squeezes his hand. "That's okay. I never thought you owed me some ability to tell me apart from my exact genetic identical who was specifically trying to be me. She'd have an explanation for everything, your mind would, too. Thank Walter for training you," she says.

"I'll bring that up next time he comes in," Peter says. "It'll be fun."

"And you were right about the list," she says. She's repeating herself, but she is and was impressed. "Otherwise your doctor here at Massive Dynamic would be a shapeshifter."

"Instead, Walter and I have toys to play with. I think with the four memory disks we can make some real progress," Peter says. He blinks and she touches his hair.

"Maybe rest," she says.

"If you make me," he says, already yawning.

She has a nightmare. She wakes up and she's back to being one second from dying. She wakes up a second time and Peter has his hands on her back. She says, "I hate the dreams where you think you've woken up."

"But the awful parts keep going," Peter says.

"Did you ever keep a dream journal?" She thinks of Seattle. She thinks about him in her hotel room.

"I did for a month when I was 19. I had pen and paper by my bed but I gotta tell you, my handwriting was pretty bad when I would wake up. And most of my dreams were nightmares so it was even worse. I couldn't even read it. I guess if I had, I could have saved all of us a lot of pain," Peter says.

"Do you think your nightmares were literal memories? Should you have figured out whatever images your subconscious threw at you?" She sits up and brushes her hair off her face.

"You really won't let me feel a little bit of blame, will you?" His voice is angry. She doesn't look at him.

"It feels like pity," Olivia says. "Sorry."

"Cause I'm not allowed self-pity, so you don't get to either?"

She shrugs and lays back down. She turns towards him. She says, "I nearly died. I was so close to dying. If Broyles hadn't come for me, Brandon would have cut me up. Removed my spine, my brain, my eye. They marked my body."

Peter murmurs something and envelopes her in his arms. "Sorry," Peter says.

"It's overwhelming," Olivia says. "I almost died, I was brainwashed, you were violated and everyone I knew tricked by this other Olivia, and I thought, I was her. I don't hate her."

"You can hate someone, I bet," Peter says. "How about Walter?"

"Which one?"

"Both," Peter says. "I don't hate Walter, not our Walter. I hate my father but mostly I think about him and then I think about my mother."

"I never, having my mother over there, it wasn't the same," Olivia says.

"She was never married to your stepfather," Peter says. "She's as different from your mom as you are to her."

"That makes me sound like a horrible daughter," Olivia says.

"I'm a horrible son," Peter says. "Ask either of them."

She almost laughs. She turns in Peter's arms, and hugs him. "We should have these talks when we're more awake."

"We're never going to do that." Peter kisses her and smooths her hair.

She has more nightmares. Peter never says anything.

The next day there's another body. "Same as the last time, exploded genitals," Walter says. "I suppose you all want to see and compare."

Peter says, "Suppose why? Did you miss how close we came to vomiting last time?"

"You did, the women seemed okay with it," Walter says.

"Because we didn't look the first time," Astrid says. "We all trust you to do the comparisons, Walter."

"If the first two were a mistake, this shows they haven't done anything to stop it," Peter says.

"Not necessarily," Walter says. "If the first two were a kind of allergic reaction, that is very difficult to anticipate."

"Except," Olivia says, "We've found six more bodies over the past year with the same injuries. I looked through coroner reports and had them send me the files. From what I skimmed, there are enough pictures we shouldn't need to exhume these people."

Astrid says, "Do I have more people to interview?"

"Why did it take so long to find these other corpses and yes, I will need the bodies if the coroners haven't done the right tests on the bodies. It's an interaction that's causing this. There are more common stimulants but someone has added even more complex and unique compounds," Walter says, whining.

"They took very thorough blood tests, they couldn't find an explanation for the, uh, injuries," Olivia says. "And it took so long because we have other cases, Walter. Not all searches take ten minutes."

"But we can use Massive Dynamic now," Walter says. "Surely if Nina wanted this information, she would have it in 10 minutes. You do know I own Massive Dynamic, now, right, dear?"

"Yes," Olivia says. "Of course I do." Broyles and Peter had told her. She says, "We use FBI resources. Even if you are offering us more."

"But you can use the company, all their big brother intrusion and constantly monitoring their cameras," Walter says. "It will make our lives easier."

Olivia sighs. Peter says, "I'll take you over, Olivia."

It's not a long flight but somehow Olivia finds it grating. Peter says, "You know I agree with you on trusting Nina Sharp. I agree with you. But we have this resource."

"Walter has this resource. Who knows what they're slipping by him?"

Peter scratched his chin. "I'm trying to make sure we don't get duped."

"You're his legal guardian, doesn't that mean you own Massive Dynamic?"

"Technically," Peter says. "I've been trying to avoid that responsibility. There's so much going on in our lives and Massive Dynamic is a labyrinth of mazes leading to locked files and super secret projects, plus all the work Bell did on the other side and filtered back to the company. I prefer Fringe cases and movies with you."

"What are we supposed to get from Massive Dynamic?" Peter tries not to sound irritated but Olivia can hear it.

"We're going to do Walter's more extensive searches," Olivia says. "Do I just sit here and start typing?"

"No," Peter says. He leaves the room. It's yet another white sterile place that looks like someone imagined the future would look like. The screen on the computer in front of her is huge. She wonders if there are Massive Dynamic rooms with pictures of William Bell, like the President and Attorney General in the Federal Building. She is pretty sure she hates William Bell even if he did die for her.

Peter comes back with a tall East Asian man. The man sits down next to Olivia and starts typing. He says, "Tell me what you're looking for, ma'am."

Olivia and Peter suggest various parameters to help them narrow down the owners of the sex club. It's all buried in holding companies that own LLCs and it takes Massive Dynamic's guy 20 minutes. Then he runs a background check and identifies recent purchases that could have created the chemical compounds Walter's looking for.

Then they fly back. Peter falls asleep. Olivia watches him. It feels a little creepy.

She keeps having to pull Peter and Walter away from the memory discs. Walter decided that since Bell had created them, there might be something to help with discs in Bell's office. Peter goes with him so Walter doesn't ransack it. Peter calls her from Massive Dynamic. "We found something."

It's even harder to pull them away after that.

Broyles tells them it's time to go to the sex club. Walter is still analyzing the tissues of the bodies he insisted on exhuming and with this many dead, it's time to get "sexy," as Peter puts it.

They've already submitted their tests and application. They've already been accepted. Peter spends a day in the lab with Walter and comes home with a variety of condoms and specially made collection devices. Olivia grimaces. "I won't need a pap smear at the end, right?"

"No," Peter says. "Not at all. Maybe some swabs but not too intrusive."

They make a plan. For their first night, they're just going to watch, maybe have sex with each other, but no one else. "It's our first time, after all," Olivia says.

When Peter arrives at her apartment to pick her up, he actually steps back when he sees her. "Wow."

"Thank you," Olivia says, walking past him. "I'll drive."

"Of course," Peter says.

It feels weird going commando, definitely weird, she thinks. It makes the most sense and she is always logical. She smiles to herself.

The club is a converted warehouse set among other warehouses. She knows from their research there's two other locations. But this is the one she and Peter were invited to.

Peter helps her get out of the car, she can make heels work, but it's not her greatest skill. He blinks and she could swear he's blushing. "You're not wearing any underwear, are you?"

"Are you?"

"Actually no," Peter says. "I feel a little awkward. Like it's a first date."

"Yeah," Olivia says. "Yeah, me, too."

"Well, we would be," Peter says.

At the door of the warehouse, they both get hand stamps. "Special for first timers," the bouncer says.

Olivia resists the urge to rub it off. Instead she takes Peter's hand and in they go.

The warehouse conversation is well done. It looks more like a house on the inside, some rooms without doors, some rooms with sliding doors, stairs going up, intervals of bright lights and dark nooks.

"Which way do we go?"

Olivia goes forward. She likes forward. The first room they walk past has some sort of show going on. A naked pale woman is restrained on a raised table. Peter says, "Nope."

She looks over her shoulder at him. "Not your thing?"

"Generally no," Peter says.

The room on the other side has a light show and people already having sex on a bed and a couch. She squeezes Peter's hand. He says, "I see."

A man on the bed is coming, loudly, laying on his back. His green eyes are glowing.

"Wow," Olivia says. She's suddenly concerned they're being watched and evaluated. She pulls Peter forward. "Let's see the rest."

The next room is closed and the one after that. Then they're at two doors. Peter says, "I'm gonna bust these open like Aragorn, come sweeping in."

"Or we could be subtle and let the coming happen later," Olivia says.

"Oh, aren't you funny," Peter says. He's pressed against her back.

She pushes one of the doors open. It's a large room with big round sofas and a chandelier and ropes hanging from the ceiling. Most of the ropes are in use. It's a dazzling effect of lights and skin and some sounds Olivia just does not find sexy. She finds an unoccupied bench against the wall and pushes Peter down so she can sit on his lap. "We can watch," she says.

"Or more," Peter says.

It's nice not to fake this part. Removed from the weird fringe elements, she is having sex with her hot boyfriend watching other people fuck. Some of them are very hot. There is no part of her life, though, she realizes, that can be removed from the weird fringe elements. Peter's pushed her dress up to her hips and his wonderful fingers are touching her softly, in circles, driving her nuts. She reaches under to get Peter's pants open and he helps her. He's hard and she shifts to bring his penis closer to where she wants him. He says, "We don't usually use condoms."

"When it's us, we don't need to," she says. He fills her and she moves slowly up and down. His hands are tight on her hips. Someone is looking at them, at Olivia's spread legs and Peter inside her. More than one someone, she sees. It's a turn-on.

"Show off," Peter says, after she comes. "That was dramatic."

She doesn't say anything about his very loud orgasm. She pulls her dress down and Peter pulls his pants up. "We could just walk around naked," Peter says. "Though you practically are. When did you get that dress?"

"Two days ago," Olivia says. "I think it's actually a slip."

"Maybe we should try upstairs, see what's there," Peter says.

"Absolutely, time to explore," Olivia says.

Upstairs, it's more of an open floor plan with screens and half walls. They stay close to the outside again. Peter pulls her against him. He quietly passes her one of the blood testing things that Walter and Peter made. It looks like a lipstick tube. She says, "Why?"

"I feel altered, don't you?"

"I feel like I had excellent sex," she says.

"Thank you," Peter says. "But I mean, a little drunk, a little turned on. It's like a bump. Do both of us."

She doesn't feel it. She thinks she has a high tolerance and her mood curdles a little. She does the blood collection on the two of them so no one can see and then passes the thing back to Peter. He pockets it. "I don't feel it," she says.

"I live with Walter, I try to be hyper-aware," Peter says.

Peter pulls her onto a divan against a wall. He says, "I could go again."

"So soon?" She pulls her dress off, balls it up and shoves it into Peter's pocket. He immediately open his jeans again, but he just pushes them down to his thighs.

He holds her hips and says, "Can I be on top?"

She smiles and lets him push her onto her back on the divan. She spreads her legs around him. He takes his time, this time. His hands and his mouth are all over her. She looks to one side and watches people watching them, having sex with each other. She's so turned on, she comes with Peter's first thrust into her. She gets a good grip on his butt as he keeps going. Peter says, "You're so beautiful."

She mumbles "thank you," and feels Peter come inside her. She kisses him and he kisses her and she thinks she very well might be a little high.

Peter sits up and she sits up. She stands, feeling strong and together. She turns as someone comes close behind her, it's a beautiful woman, Olivia's height, around a size 10, curvy and gorgeous. The woman says, "Want to make out?"

"Absolutely, yes," Olivia says. She feels Peter's kiss on her hand.

They are a tangle of soft skin and wet open mouths. Olivia is lying on her back again while the woman is licking Olivia's nipple, then a light almost bite and back to licking and Olivia is almost positive she is going to come just from that. She looks over to find Peter, she is still undercover when she remembers. She finds Peter but he's got someone else on top of him. Olivia watches a little longer, see it's a man and goes back to paying attention to the wide wet lips of the woman. Olivia comes again and feels like she's going to melt into the sofa. Then she makes sure the lovely woman ends happily. They are sort of cuddling, touching each other. Olivia says, "Is it alright to ask your name?"

"I don't know," the woman says. "It's only my third time. I'm Violet."

"Olivia," she says. "I think I'm definitely coming back."

"Me, too," Violet says.

She turns her head and sees Peter. He is standing over her, his pants already buttoned up. He says, "Sweetheart, we should go. While we're still safe to drive."

"Good point," Olivia says. She kisses Violet goodbye and takes her dress from Peter's pocket. They go to the bathroom.

Olivia points at the sign that says people should not have sex in here. "You put signs like that up if people are having sex in the bathroom."

"So no one will mind if we duck into a stall," Peter says. When they're both in the stall, he takes out all the testing stuff Walter gave him. He takes more blood and the swabs do come out. She grins at him.

"Why am I now higher than you?"

"Maybe you needed to make out with a super hot chick to really get high," Peter says.

"I couldn't tell if your guy was hot," she says.

"He absolutely was. Mouth like a hoover," Peter says.

Peter takes the keys and drives them home. Olivia sits back in her seat and hums. Peter says, "What is that song?"

"I don't know," Olivia says. "Should we have sex when we get home? Drink coffee?"

"The stamp," Peter says. "That's how it happened. The stamp is how they got the drug into us."

Olivia licks her stamp. "You might be right."

"I am right," Peter says. "Also I don't think we need any caffeine. We should probably eat, drink water."

"I'm not hungry," Olivia says. "Or I am."

They get into her apartment and Olivia takes off her dress and shoes. She moves into the bedroom and sits on the bed. She lies down and plays with her hair. She hears her door open and close. "Peter? Did you order food?"

He comes into her bedroom. She wants him to come inside her. He says, "I called a Massive Dynamic messenger to take all the samples to Kresge. I don't want Walter coming to find us in the morning to start his testing."

"Such a good idea," Olivia says. "Please have sex with me."

"As you wish," Peter says.

She's on top, just like she likes and being high on whatever they gave her at the club helps her come quickly and like her whole body is on fire, but with no pain.

"Do you think we'll have a hangover?"

Peter says, "Probably not. The idea, clearly, is to get us to go back. Doesn't work if we realize we've been drugged."

Olivia wakes up, naked and sticky. "Ugh," she says. She never went to sleep like this.

Peter wakes up and makes the same face. "Race you to the bedroom," he says.

Peter wins, and he's the first in the shower. The mirror starts fogging up. She steps into the shower and says, "Are you planning on scalding yourself this morning?"

"I like to be clean," Peter says. He turns down the water a little. Olivia scrubs herself vigorously.

Olivia gets dressed and Peter puts on his jeans just as his phone rings. Olivia quickly figures out it's Walter, and he's already running tests. Peter says, "No, I don't want to go over all the acts Olivia and I committed, not tomorrow and not ever. Please, Walter, never."

Olivia smiles and makes them both espresso. She notices the time. "Peter, we should get to work."

"Nope," Peter says. "We're not going in today. At least not until noon. Or until Walter finishes going over the samples."

"Why are you so freaked out?"

Peter grimaces. "I've had to deal with Walter's naked needs and gross sexual stories for the last 3 years. I don't want to give him space to try and bond with him."

"You don't want to bond with him," Olivia says.

"Of course I do," Peter says. "I don't want to at all. I contain multitudes."

They don't have enough data from their first trip to the club. Another case comes up, a gruesome death. Walter "suddenly" remembers another cortexiphan kid. Simon is so troubled. It makes her sad, how damaged the poor man is. When the case is done, she lays on her bed after Peter's fallen asleep. She looks at the ceiling. How damaged is she? It was a break to be the other Olivia, someone who grew up normal and loved. She looks at Peter's calm face. He isn't having a nightmare, he breathes evenly. She does the same most of the time when she sleeps.

She almost died. She was so close to being cut up. Broyles paid for his heroism, cut up in pieces and sent to this side. She wonders if his wife even knows what happen. Chris, she thinks. Chris deserved his father. More than she deserved to live? Olivia breathes deeply.

Peter stirs and rolls on his side, cuddling her. She says, "Are you awake?"

Peter hmms and then he's back asleep. She feels loved. She thinks about Peter's kindness and falls asleep.

They go to the sex club again. They gawk a little more at the more private rooms, but they still wait to have sex until they're in the big room. A man comes over after, asks if they're interested in a threesome. Olivia ends up sitting against the wall, legs spread while Peter eats her out and she can watch him getting fucked, see the shine of the condom on the man's penis going in and in. After, Peter is a blissed out boneless heavy weight on top of her as she tries to be subtle about her sample collection.

The second time stamp doesn't make Olivia as high, she's just pleasantly buzzed. Peter is nearly as stoned as Walter on his very stoned days. He's lovingly pliable. He'll kiss anyone and everyone. He has his big hands in anyone's hair as he presses up against them. Olivia watches Peter having sex with two women, one after the other. Peter is together enough to return to Olivia to make sure they get the sample. One of the women has glowing eyes.

Peter pulls Olivia up from where she's watching and says, "You get to have fun, too."

"Who says I'm not?"

He explores her body, spreading her open. He can feel how wet she is. He says, "Sure. But you should get a girl, too. Or a guy."

Olivia laughs and pushes his hand up further into her. He knows what she likes and she comes while he is licking her neck. It's a hilarious and hot thing he's never done before. Not to her. She likes to come and laugh.

She did that all the time with John.

She holds onto Peter's shoulder and looks around the big room in the second floor. She sees Violet at the same time Violet sees her. "You're right, Peter. I want a woman before we leave."

She spends half an hour with Violet, the two of them on a sofa. Violet has these big beautiful breasts Olivia can't get enough of. She is falling in love with Violet's round belly and the freckles on her shoulder. Violet says, "You have freckles, too."

Olivia is starting to get hit by the stamp chemical, getting as altered as Peter. She says, "Are we allowed to see each other outside of here?"

Violet grins. "We're allowed to do anything, sweetie. Don't you have a boyfriend?"

Olivia looks around. "I think that's him over there, with that handsome man. Peter's the one on his knees."

"Yeah, but that's here. I think you should check with your boyfriend before you try to get me as a girlfriend," Violet says. "Although, if he doesn't mind, I'd have sex with you anytime."

"You have a partner, right? You have to, to get in," Olivia says.

"I have a boyfriend," Violet says. "We're in an open relationship."

"Cool," Olivia says. "I am pretty happy right now. I shouldn't presume."

"You presumptuous sumptuous woman," Violet says. She kisses Olivia and makes her come all over again.

Olivia forces herself to get up and finds Peter. He's carefully gathering more samples from himself in a way that isn't obvious. He smiles at Olivia, goofy and sweet, and holds her hips. He kisses her belly. He looks up and says, "You really like that girl."

"I asked her out," Olivia says. "She pointed out I should probably check in with you before doing things like that."

Peter exhales, his cheeks puffed out. He starts quietly getting samples from Olivia. He says, "Neither of us probably up for that discussion tonight."

She is all the way home, tucked in bed with Peter, the samples long gone with the Massive Dynamic courier when it occurs to her she might have hurt Peter's feelings. She rubs his shoulder. "Are you awake?"

Peter says, "A little bit."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Olivia says. "I don't want to be with Violet, I just really love having sex with her. Like I love having sex with you. But you're my guy."

"What an awkward way to say that," Peter says. He kisses her nose. "Thank you. Go to sleep."

Olivia wakes up with a start. "Peter?"

"Hmm." He rolls over to face her.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to date someone else, I'm sorry."

Peter nods. "It's okay."

She frowns. "Why are you okay with that? I shouldn't be playing fast and loose with our relationship, even high."

"You weren't," Peter says. His eyes are barely open.

"Are you so chill because you think you cheated?"

Peter's wide eyed now. "No, I'm not and I don't."

"Okay," Olivia says. "Okay, I'm sorry."

"Do you think I cheated on you? I failed you?"

"No," she says. "I don't. I don't blame you. People, I think people expect me to blame you. But I don't."

"Which people?" Peter is propped up on his elbow.

"I don't know," Olivia says. "Maybe it's just my head."

"If you focus on just this one thing, that one thing, then it's just that one thing and you didn't almost die, no one else is a victim, you weren't brainwashed with your mind overwritten. I'm too busy feeling guilty to think about everything that mattered to me being a lie, it's an easy out, right?" Peter is barely looking at her, his eyes focused somewhere around her breasts.

"It doesn't seem like an easy out," Olivia says. "It sounds excruciating."

"Yeah, but then everything's okay once we get back together. I'm forgiven and you're not broken." Peter sighs. "Which, that's not real, right?"

"No," Olivia says. "Maybe I should shift my perception."

"I won't cooperate," Peter says. "You yell at me when I try to feel guilty, usually."

"Do I yell?" She moves closer to him.

"You do," Peter says. He's looking in her eyes now. "You're mean." He smiles.

"Sorry," she says. "I mean it."

At the lab, she finds Walter brimming with joy. Peter says, "I'm afraid to ask."

"Thanks to your excellent sample collection, I have now figured it out. It is definitely the hand stamps that the owners used to kill these people. The first night's hand stamp? A stimulant, a little something to increase arousal, more arousal than stimulant. Second night? Even more arousal, tiny bit of stimulant and a smidge of something to loosen inhibitions," Walter says. He's doing a little dance as he talks. "I would imagine that the glowing eyes is a side effect of some people who react to whatever is in the other means of getting the chemicals in. But it is not inherently anything that would cause the, uh, explosions we saw. But once I identified the compounds in the drink or injection or other stamp, then I could see that the catalyst to these explosions did not come from the glowing."

"So the owners choose to kill these guys and give the go ahead to the bouncers," Peter says.

"Most likely, yes," Walter says. "You shall have to keep going until we find out what the other substance is."

"Awesome," Peter says.

"Well, you're clearly enjoying yourself, Peter, I can tell by your ejaculate -"

"Don't say one more word," Peter says "Not one more word."

So they go to their third night at the sex club. Olivia is relieved she doesn't see Violet. Since Walter identified the makeup of the stamp, mostly, he makes them a blocker. It mostly works. But there's a giddiness to the place. It makes Olivia a little giddy, just watching the sex. "Maybe I'm secretly a voyeur," she says.

"Who wouldn't enjoy people having consensual sex all around, some with glowing eyes," Peter says.

She's wearing the fancy garter belt attached to her hose that Peter bought her. She has nothing else on. Peter is keeping track of their clothes and her shoes. He never takes off his jeans, just pushes them down to his ankles. He squeezes her butt. She's already had sex with Peter, another man, another woman and then two other women. She's seen Peter with two men, and she lost track of him during her threesome. "Maybe the blocker isn't working," she says. "We keep getting super laid."

"We're attractive and bi, there are a lot of opportunities here," Peter says.

She smiles and leans against his chest. "You're my favorite."

"So the blocker isn't working on you," Peter says. He sinks to his knees and spreads her legs. His mouth is so magical. Walter has been ranting about the breakdown of the laws of physics, Olivia worries about it. Maybe Peter is doing that to her with his mouth. She holds his head for balance, to keep standing. She comes and the lights flicker.

She flinches and steps back. Peter stands up and pulls her close to him. When she opens her eyes, he's glimmering. She breathes in and out until the glimmer is gone. "Time to go home," she says.

She's silent until they get back to her place. Then she says, "Is Walter okay now that you basically live here?"

Peter makes his usual call to the courier. Then he says, "There's an FBI agent who watches the house, he and Walter are getting to be friends. Sort of. He sleeps at the lab sometimes."

She says, "I'm an experiment, again. I don't know what set it off tonight."

"You've been ingesting a lot of chemicals," Peter says.

She sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Peter says. "Walter should apologize or Bell, not you."

"This has been fun," she says. "I'm going to bed."

"Am I allowed in?" He doesn't look pissed. She knows he isn't pissed. His voice is kind.

"Always," she says.

They sleep in again. She holds Peter's arm for a moment, looks at his sleeping face. He is her favorite.

She sits in her office at the lab and stares out the window. Where she is now, if she could see the other side, it would be amber. The lab wasn't, but she bets it is now. She left there. But it made a tear, when she went over, probably when she went back. She should go to New York City, she thinks. She should try. Or make Walter fix the window. Or something. She worries about the other side and all of Walter's doomsaying. She worries about Peter and Walter's obsessive dwelling on the shapeshifters tech.

They have to go again.

"I know it seems like a weird complaint, but we are having a lot of sex," Peter says.

"So much sex," Olivia says. She hooks on her hose to her garter belt and puts on her latest almost a dress. She braids her hair and then ties it into a bun.

"Someone's just going to pull that out," Peter says. "Doing it doggystyle and then they grab your hair."

"Then I break their hand," Olivia says, turning and smiling.

"Good plan," Peter says.

Olivia skips the blocker since it doesn't work for her. Peter takes it, he hates being that altered. The new stamp reflects that they've started their subscription, and Olivia looks down at the purple smudge on her hand. She wonders what the new drug mix is.

They go into each room, after only going into a few rooms the last two times. They go tentatively into a dark room and then, finally, finally, someone offers them one of the glowing drinks. They only take one and share it. Olivia feels even more buzzed as soon as it hits her throat. She grabs Peter and pulls herself up to kiss him. He holds her there, strong hands on her ass. "Peter, Peter, Peter," she says. He pulls her into an even more dark corner and takes two quick blood samples. He stashes them and pulls off her dress.

He gets on his knees and her onto the edge of table or dresser or whatever she's sitting on. She says, "But I can grab your hair."

He laughs and then slowly, teasingly licks her, touches her until she's so wet and she comes, loudly. She looks down at him and his eyes are glowing. He blinks and it doesn't go away. "Hey," he says. He stands up and staggers a little.

"Hey," she says. She touches his face. He feels clammy.

"Hey, let's go into the light," she says. She takes her dress back, puts it back on. He's trembling.

She takes him outside and she can see he's suddenly pale. He's blinking a lot and when they're halfway down to the bathroom, he leans on her to hold him up. She says, "Honey?"

"I think it's just, um, an allergic reaction," Peter says. "But we should go. Maybe I ate something earlier." He grimaces at her.

She gets him to the car. She calls Walter so when they get to Kresge, Walter is waiting by the door. "Peter," he says.

"Walter," Peter mumbles. It takes Walter and Olivia holding Peter to get him to the exam table. He's still shaking, not quite a seizure.

"I called Astrid," Walter says. "I can call, there are Massive Dynamic people I could call?"

"Walter, first figure out what's wrong," Olivia says.

Walter hooks up various monitors and takes another blood sample. Walter is remarkably adept at getting a blood sample from a shaking person. Peter's breathing is shallow and seems pained. Olivia holds his hand while Walter gets all of Peter's clothes off. Peter makes a face of disgust. "He couldn't let me have my pants on?"

"Son, I need to check some things, you understand," Walter says.

Peter keeps his eyes on Olivia. She squeezes his hand.

Astrid comes in and takes a moment to touch Peter's forehead and says, "Peter, we'll make sure you're fine."

Olivia watches Peter get worse and worse while Walter buzzes around and Astrid is kind and soothing. Olivia says, "Astrid, were you doing something when Walter called? You deserve a life, too."

Astrid smiles briefly and then says, "Actually I was just home watching TV. My girlfriend is in New York City for the week. And this is for Peter."

"Good," Olivia says.

"Astrid's girlfriend is an artist," Peter says. "She makes ceramics." His voice is lower than usual and he speaks in little bursts while he tries to breathe.

"Good," Olivia says. She feels bad for not asking more, she knows Astrid has a girlfriend, but the artist part is news to her. She squeezes Peter's hand and touches his hair.

"Walter," Peter says. "What's wrong with me? It seems like more than an allergic reaction."

"Yes," Walter says. "It is, it is more. I'll run more tests. I need to check a few things, this will hurt, I'm sorry." Walter does more examinations, this time with a needle and small tissue samples.

Olivia gets a sheet and comes back to put it on Peter. "Thank you," he says.

"I know you don't like showing off your butt," she says.

Then Walter pulls Olivia aside and starts and stops talking. She says, "Walter, tell me."

"Something in the drink, the drink they gave you both, it's set off a cascade of reactions. He is dying again, you see. The compounds have somehow, see, when Peter was a child, he had a disease -"

"I know that," Olivia says, grabbing at Walter's shirt. "You cured it."

"Yes, he, there was a, certain receptors for amino acids and hormones weren't turned on, and he died. But the cure turned them back on, and now they're off again completely and everything is building up very fast. Very fast. More than before," Walter says, his eyes tearing up.

"So redo the cure, you remember it, right?" Olivia looks over at Peter, he's glimmering. Like she needs that sign.

"I remember it, yes, but I am worried it is not enough," Walter says.

"You won't know until you try," Olivia says. "Tell Peter, maybe he has an idea."

Olivia goes into the bathroom and roots around for her spare clothes. She can't spend another minute in this ridiculous get up. She turns when Astrid clears her throat. "Here you go," she says. She hands Olivia the spare clothes. "I got them earlier and made sure you had underwear and a bra."

"You're a godsend," Olivia says.

She starts getting dressed and smiles at Astrid. "I'm sorry," Olivia says. "I should be ... I get so focused."

"You mean you're sorry you haven't taken me out to lunch every day to hear about my day?"

"Not every day," Olivia says.

"We all do our best," Astrid says. "I'm a little annoyed, but you just apologized."

"Okay, good," Olivia says.

The two of them come back into the lab. Walter is busy at his station, mixing and measuring. Olivia says, "Peter, did you talk to him?"

Peter nods. "Maybe I should, I should die. Genetic disease is a way of saying, you in particular, you should not be here. If Walter had let me die, think of all the people who wouldn't have."

"I don't believe that," Olivia says.

"Rare genetic disease. One in 100 million," Peter says.

"Peter," Olivia says. She pushes his hair off his face.

"Okay then," Peter says.

"Time to start," Walter says. "Son, I am going to, well, you already know. And I love you, of course, you already know that."

Peter smiles and takes Walter's hand. He can't quite grip. "Moving very fast," Walter says softly. "Time to start."

Walter and Astrid hook up two IVs. Then Walter waves to Astrid who gets a big needle out. "Adrenalin?" Olivia lets go of her grip on Peter's other hand. She says, "So this might kill him?"

"Or save him," Walter says. "Probably save him. But with nothing he dies in a few days."

"When he was a kid he was sick for months, years," Olivia says.

"I explained," Walter says. He fiddles with the IV and Olivia watches the purple liquid go into Peter's veins. Peter closes his eyes. He starts and arches in pain and then he slumps back to the table. Still breathing. Astrid and Walter and Olivia stare at Peter for five minutes without talking. Then Walter says, "So far so good."

Then it's a bustle of activity as Astrid starts calling Massive Dynamic to arrange Peter's transfer to the New York City building. "It's probably better than a hospital," Walter says.

Olivia calls Broyles, she should have called him hours ago. Then she just sits with Peter. His eyes are closed but he's dreaming, she can tell. He still looks bad but he's breathing easier. She thinks. She wishes.

She tries to organize her thoughts. She should give a report to Broyles. Hopefully they haven't lost their entire case. She's sure that no one intended to hurt Peter or her. No one is suspicious.

She finds her laptop and balances it on the bit of the table Peter's not on. She types up everything she can remember so she has that for Broyles, at least.

Finally the people come from Massive Dynamic and they carefully get Peter out of the lab and to the private airplane. "This is nice," Olivia says.

Walter has gotten up and is hovering over Peter. There's a Massive Dynamic doctor right there, the same one who did the tests on Peter after the Machine.

They're set up in a hospital wing which, of course, is white, sterile and creepy. Olivia can't sleep and Peter hasn't woken up.

"Should he be awake by now?" She finds Walter in another lab, mixing more things that seem to be turning out in a violet shade. "Should he?"

"The results are generally positive," Walter says. He hasn't looked away from his pipettes. "Things look good, I believe they do."

"But it's been three days," Olivia says. "Shouldn't we be seeing more progress?"

"I don't know what we should be seeing, Olivia. This is not something I planned for or expected," Walter says. "Please, please, let me work."

Olivia goes back to Peter. She's already fielded a question from someone at the sex club, wondering what happened to Peter. She'd said that Peter had had an allergic reaction to something he'd eaten at dinner before they got there. She thanked them for their concern.

Broyles is already back in Boston. Olivia lay down on the the cot next to Peter. She wakes up when Brandon comes in. He says, "Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to see. I wanted to check on Peter. Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Walter thinks so," Olivia says. "He's been playing with whatever's in that IV bag. Different mixes."

Brandon nods. "That makes sense. Refining it based on the reaction and the underlying problem."

Peter wakes up. Olivia feels like she can move again. He takes her hand, entwines their fingers. "Did Walter tell you what he was using on me?"

"The old cure," Olivia says. She rubs her forehead. "What else?"

"Cortexiphan," Peter says, his eyes nearly closing. "Cortexiphan has regenerative qualities. I wouldn't be surprised if that explains why your brain is still solid after all the trips to the tank and chemicals."

"He gave you cortexiphan?"

"We agreed he should give it to me," Peter says. "I wanted to live."

"Is everything glimmering to you now?" She lets go of his hand and scratches at her neck.

Peter has a small, loopy smile. He says, "Cortexiphan doesn't affect people in the same way every time. Look at your fellow kids."

She takes his hand again. "This seems like a really bad idea."

"Probably," Peter says. "But also, I'm alive."

She takes a deep breath.

After a week, Peter is nearly as good as new. She wonders if they're going back to the sex club. She doesn't want to. She feels done with all of it. She hates the idea of getting high again. She says, "Are we still working on that case?"

"The sex club?" She's pacing in the apartment, and Peter pulls her down on his lap. Peter says, "I don't want to go back, you don't want to go back, I bet we've got enough info to solve it."

"Do we?" She has her arms around his neck, her forehead resting on top of his hair. "Who do you think did it?"

"Bouncer," Peter says. "I think the bouncer is enforcing his own ideas of what should be okay. They never came after either of us, and I don't want to do whatever it would take to provoke them."

"That's a good idea," Olivia says. She worries at that moment if this is the cortexiphan manifesting in him.

"I say that as someone who's worked with a lot of sleazy assholes," Peter says. "I didn't have a vision or anything."

Olivia says, "Are you reading my mind?"

"I'm reading your body language. You're tense, I can guess why," Peter says. "No cortexiphan powers so far, Liv."

"So far," Olivia says. "Will Walter be sending you on a vision quest to activate you?"

"Nope," Peter says. "I'm 32, I get to choose. Like I chose to take it."

"I feel like it's ruined my life. I don't know why you'd want it." She holds him tighter.

Peter says, "I don't want to die. I didn't want to die. I'd put up with a lot of consequences to make sure I get to do this." He kisses her arm.

Sam Weiss shows up at her door. Peter is out and she lets Sam in. Sam says, "Hey hey Olivia."

"Hey hey you. Thank you for stopping by after not seeing me for months."

"I didn't want to add to your burdens," Sam says. He sits down at her table. "Is that your espresso machine? It's really nice."

"You want one?"

Sam says, "I had an interesting visit from Nina Sharp tonight. She thinks I wrote the First People book."

Olivia thinks about it while she's grinding the beans. She hates that Peter has gotten her into all these habits of the way to make coffee. Sometimes she just wants to get a french press. She says, "Did you?"

"No, that was Great-Great-Great-Grandpa."

Olivia turns and gives him his espresso. "You didn't think to mention that earlier?"

"It's a family secret," Sam says. "We Weisses have made a lot of plans."

"How do I figure into this?"

"You and Peter are important," Sam says. "Something's shifted. I'm worried you need to have this information."

"Because if I don't, the world ends. Worlds end," Olivia says. She wants to slap him.

"Basically yes," Sam says. "Something happened, right?"

"You weren't watching? You didn't notice?" Olivia lets her anger seep in a little. She rubs her forehead. "What does it matter?"

"You're part of that picture, you know," Sam says. "The one with Peter in the Machine. You're on the other side."

"How long have you known that?"

"About 15 hours," Sam says. "I cracked open an emergency supplement to the First People." Sam reaches in his pocket and takes out a scroll. He straightens it out on the table.

Olivia is disgusted to see her face, repelled and frightened. She says, "So what? I close my eyes and Peter goes into the machine and everything's fine?"

"I don't know, Olivia," Sam says. "That's why I'm here."

Olivia resists the idea of shooting him. She takes the scroll straight to Peter. He says, "I don't get it. I don't get any of it."

"Why do we get all this dropped from the heavens?" Olivia nearly snarls.

"If all these people are buzzing around knowing about what needs to happen or how this shit works, why do they keep waiting to tell us? Why not just do it 10 years ago? Why not just stop Walter from ever taking me?" Peter paces around her apartment. Someday they'll get their own place.

She sighs. "Why do they do anything? What are we even supposed to do with this information?"

Peter says, "Let's go to the fucking machine right now, hold hands and get in."

"There isn't room for two in there," Olivia says, smiling, finally.

"But apparently we're supposed to be linked," Peter says, also smiling. "Why not now? Let's get this over with. I really am sick of it. Observers, Sam Weiss, people we don't even know, they apparently could all see this coming, what happened to the other side. Why did any of them wait? Why?"

Olivia says, "Maybe we're supposed to go through some kind of hero's journey. Everyone wants to make sure we have that chance for growth."

"That sounds stupid enough for an Observer," Peter says. "Let's go."

It almost makes her laugh, they get into the car and drive to where the machine is.

Peter takes her hand like he threatened. In the presence of the machine, Olivia feels a spark between them, something like the rush when she crossed over. Peter says, "This is different."

"Yeah," Olivia says. "Are you sure about this?"

"No," Peter says. "But why would we wait? Let's just do it."

"Shouldn't you take off your shirt?" Olivia is trying to make him smile.

"Nothing's touching my bare chest in the drawing, and I'm wearing pants. I think someone wanted some beefcake in their tedious schematic," Peter says. He takes off his shoes and socks. Then he takes her hand again and they walk to the machine.

Somehow she is still linked with him when he gets in. She sees the shift in the fabric of everything. She has to close her eyes.

She thinks, if only we could fix the decay and fix one or two more things. She opens her eyes and all she sees is the entire universe, billions in one universe, billions in the other.

It takes days to set up the Bridge. Finally, Peter and Olivia drive home. She loves their home, it feels comfortable to her. She says to Peter, "Maybe this is a good time to excavate Walter's cottage?"

"He doesn't hoard," Peter says. He's on the couch, stretched out on the whole thing. He's understandably exhausted. But she feels over caffeinated. "I would say I don't want to violate his privacy but it's Walter. He doesn't believe in our privacy."

"Also, you're his legal guardian, you're supposed to be making sure he doesn't do harm to others."

Peter just looks at her. He says, "You want to go, you go, I want sleep."

"Then go upstairs to bed."

"I have an affinity for couches," Peter says, turning on his side away from her.

She rubs his shoulder and back, he hmms contentedly.

She and Peter looked for a house a month after they got back from the Other Side. It felt too fast to Olivia, but it really didn't. Peter said he couldn't move without Walter. "I don't want him on the first floor creeping up to our bedroom," Olivia said.

"So where Walter and I currently live is out," Peter said. "I think you like Walter more than I do."

It was certainly true at the time. Now Peter and Walter get along a lot better. Peter keeps the digs about being kidnapped and brainwashed to about once a week. She didn't want to make Peter give up his father but she wanted a place of their own. The winner was a house that cost more than either of them could comfortably afford but with a semi-detached cottage. Peter decided to use Walter's Massive Dynamic money to just buy it outright.

Olivia prefers to go outside and enter the cottage that way. She has a key to the door. Usually she knocks, but she knows Walter is in New York, still exploring the Bridge and issues.

The cottage is less of a mess than she expected. There's something rotten in the refrigerator. Olivia doesn't even try to identify it as she puts on the oven mitts and throws whatever it is into the garbage. She straightens up, folds clothes and open windows.

She sits on Walter's couch. It smells more like weed than the one in the house, but it's equally comfortable, long enough for Peter to sleep on it. They had a fight once, she barely remembers what it was about, and Peter slept on this couch instead of the one in the house. He joked that it only felt right to take up Walter's space, he was snapping back to the past. They made up in their own bed.

Olivia looks around, getting ready to close the windows. Walter has a fear of germs that kicks up enough he never opens the windows of his own volition. She looks at the picture of Peter and his mother on the side table. It's from 1983. Olivia was in Jacksonville, getting dosed with cortexiphan and a Peter she'd never meet was still only a little sick.

She gets up and goes through the covered pathway back to the house. It's barely a 3 feet walk.

Peter went upstairs, she finds him in his bed. She lies down next to him. "Hey," she says, in case he's awake.

"Hey," he mumbles, not opening his eyes.

"I'm glad we're both alive," she says. She shifts closer to him and he reaches out, pulls her against him.

"Go to sleep," he says.

The next day she reports for work at the Federal building. She knows she shouldn't have been admitted into the FBI, she killed her stepfather when she was 9. It's not the kind of thing that looks good on the record. Still, she made it. She smiles because she is here and he's not.

Peter sits at home for a week. He says, "I've done my genetic duty, I think I can retire and watch Star Trek for the rest of my life."

Olivia goes into work and does paperwork. She lets Broyles deal with the negotiations and meetings related to the newly existing space linking their universe to the other one. Charlie's helping him. Olivia can fill out forms. She doesn't mind it at all.

Peter buys an espresso machine and when she gets home, he immediately makes her "the good stuff."

"Are you going to be a barista? Quit Fringe to work at Starbucks?"

"Tempting," Peter says. "I've already been a barista, you know. Five months in Destin, Florida when I was trying to find myself. I'm surprised I didn't use the skill since then, it's a great fallback job."

"Are we calling it finding yourself now?"

"Running away and occasionally committing fraud," Peter says. "It's all about the same."

"You stole things, too," Olivia says.

"And I have you keeping track for me," Peter says. "I don't want a job. I want to rest on my laurels. Universes, saved. Put that on the resume."

"You're going to make a resume now," Olivia says. They're on the couch and he smells like someone who took a shower just an hour ago. She kisses him, one hand on his smooth face, the other pushing him onto his back. "Where's Walter?"

"Wasn't he at the lab?"

"Yes. He got the message last time, right? Don't just walk into our part of the house?"

"No," Peter says. He pushes up her shirt to cup her breasts. "He will never get that message."

Peter maneuvers her so he's on top and only has to pull down his sweat pants. If Walter walks in, he'll probably just see Peter's bare butt.

She says his name once, twice, pulls at his hair and comes. Then he pulls her upstairs so she can shower and he can clean up. Peter is looking at himself in the mirror when Olivia gets out of the shower. Olivia sighs. "I know you love the stubble. Go ahead, grow it back."

"That takes one day," Peter says. "What do you think about a beard? I think robust beard says retired world saver."

"Stubble for a month and then we'll see," Olivia says.

But they start to get cases again. She asks Peter to come into work and he does. He does it reluctantly, but he does it.

They get cases like living mold bonding to a random lonely child, a serial killer on the other side. Olivia says. "There's still Fringe cases."

"That's irritating," Peter says.

"I like working with you," she says.

"I love you," Peter says.

She kisses him right there.


End file.
